The Way the Cookie Crumbles
by SkinnyLittleLesbian
Summary: For natalie-d-j on tumblr, one of the winners of my annual holiday giveaway. This is a series of three short stories about mtf!Emma.
1. Part One: Emma and Henry

Emma adjusted her dress for what the fifth time and checked the time on her phone. Either Mr. Jeremy T. Jones, wife beater extraordinaire, was running very late, or he had caught wind of her game and backed off. In any event, she was sitting alone in a fancy restaurant in one of her more expensive dresses and feeling a bit like a fool. She sighed, sipped from her glass of water, and watched the staff rush around her table. They worked like the tides – they ebbed and flowed with platters, plates, glasses, and checks, all the while practically ignoring her as they did so. Once upon a time, she would have loved blending in this well, but now she just wanted to go home. She lifted two fingers and heralded her waitress.

"Blown off? Ugh, I hate when that happens. Believe me, though, it can't be you." The waitress's eyes raked down her figure. "I love that dress. You're gorgeous, and he's an idiot."

Emma smiled grimly and held her hand out. The things people said for tips, she thought. She had to admit, though, that the dress was exceptional, and the girl didn't have bad taste. Despite the schmoozing and the lack of a real order, Emma left a healthy tip and headed for the door. Her phone buzzed – a text from Jeremy, she noted, which claimed that he had lost track of time and was exceptionally sorry. Perhaps not all was lost. She texted him back agreeing to another night that week before sliding into her car.

In general, she liked getting dolled up – she couldn't deny that. She slid the key into the ignition and shook her head; there was, however, something about that particular night that left her wishing she was curled up in bed rather than hunting down idiots who jumped their bail. For the twenty-eight year in a row, she was celebrating her birthday in the company of strangers. Just once, she thought, having family to spend time with would be pleasant… She pulled a tissue from her purse and smeared the lipstick from her lips. All was not lost; she had gotten a cupcake earlier that evening from a local bakery, and she had just enough time to go home, light the candle, and lick the frosting off before bed.

So focused was she on getting inside and blowing out the candle that she didn't notice the small boy huddled against her door until she stumbled over his sneaker. He yawned, rubbed a fist over his eyes, and beamed up at her. She watched him curiously for a moment as his expression shifted from excitement to confusion.

"Can I help you?"

"Um. Maybe?" He scrambled to his feet and extended his hand. "I'm Henry Mills."

"I'm not interested in buying popcorn, boy scout." She stepped around him, inserted her key, and slipped inside. "And as a head's up, this building has a pretty strict no solicitation policy, so-"

"I'm not selling popcorn." He braced the door with his palm. "I'm looking for someone."

"Do your parents know you're here?"

"That's who I'm trying to find. I'm looking for an Edward Sullivan Swan." He stared hopefully up at her. "Do you know him?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Why are you looking for him?"

"He's my dad. I don't think he knows it yet, though. Are you his girlfriend?"

Emma couldn't find words for several seconds. She blinked down at Henry, while her brain struggled to process what he had just said. He was Edward Swan's kid, she thought. She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. He was her kid. She wasn't supposed to have a kid-

"Can I come in?"

"I think you need to go home."

"Not until I see him." Henry tried to peer past her into the apartment, but she kept the path inside firmly blocked. "I knocked before, and nobody answered, but maybe he was asleep?"

"I hate to break it to you, kid, but Edward Swan doesn't live here."

"But – this is the most recent address I could find. The mailbox downstairs even has Swan written on it. He's got to live here. He's just got to."

She shook her head. "He hasn't lived here in a long time."

Henry stared at her, and she noted the fierce determination in his eyes. "You're lying."

"It's the truth. And it's not possible for you to be his kid. He never had kids."

"You know a lot about him for someone who claims to not know him."

"I just said he doesn't live here. I didn't say I didn't know him." Emma groaned quietly. The kid wasn't just going to disappear, and she really didn't want to have this argument out in the hall. She pulled the door open and gestured for him to enter. "Take your shoes off and don't touch anything."

"Awesome!" He brushed past her, kicked his shoes off obediently, and set about examining all of her belongings that were out on display. There weren't many, and it didn't take him long to return his attention to her. "So who are you?"

"I'm Emma."

"Nice to meet you."

"Kid, there's gotta be some misunderstanding."

He shook his head. "My birth mother was Nelly Darling. She listed Edward Swan as the father on my birth certificate. Do you know how long it took me to even find that out? Like a really long time. She put me up for adoption when I was born, see, and nobody would tell me anything. I found this website, though, that helps adopted kids find their birth parents, and I looked up everything. That site led me here, and this is where I'm supposed to find Edward Swan, my biological father."

Emma licked her lips, suddenly thirsty for something stronger than the water she'd imbibed earlier. She opened the fridge to give herself something to do and asked over her shoulder, "You're sure about that?"

"Yup! Otherwise I wouldn't have come."

"And your adoptive mom – she was okay with this?"

"Y-yeah, of course."

"Now who's lying?" She snagged a carton of orange juice and set it on the counter. Drinking straight vodka in front of the kid wouldn't send the right message, so she determined a mixed drink would have to suffice. "Kid, just go home and forget about this."

"I can't." He clasped his hands in front of him and opened his eyes as wide as they would physically go. "You don't understand – the woman who adopted me, she not very nice."

"All kids feel that way about their parents."

Emma turned to the cabinets to retrieve a glass so that he couldn't see the empathy in her expression. She'd had a bunch of shit parents through the years, and she felt his pain – but there wasn't anything she could do about it. He had been legally adopted, and as far as she knew, he was exaggerating. He was wearing nice clothes, there were no visible bruises, and he met her eyes when he spoke to her. None of that meant he was lying, but she had her doubts about his story.

"I'm really serious. If I could just talk to Edward – he'd understand. I bet he didn't even know I was born."

"You've got that part right, at least," she muttered under her breath.

"I can't live with her anymore, Emma. She's trying to make me be someone I'm not. She's done that to the whole town."

Emma froze. He seemingly knew her weakness, and his single comment had done more to convince her than any of his previous arguments. She cleared her throat. "Look, I'll drive you home, okay? And I'll take a look and see if there's anything I can do."

"No offense, Emma, but I need my dad. If he didn't know about me, maybe he can take me back. I looked up the laws and stuff, and he should have been notified so that he could have claimed me before I got adopted out. He would have wanted me." Henry licked his lips and picked at a fingernail. "He would have, I know it."

Emma thought back to when she had known Nelly – she had been sixteen years old at the time, and completely uncomfortable with her body. No foster parent had even tried to understand what she had been telling them – and no foster parent was willing to let her see a doctor. She had run away to try and fix things on her own when she'd run into the good-natured young woman. Nelly had been the first one to call her Emma. Back then, she didn't know how to handle herself, let alone another human life. No matter how sure Henry sounded, she knew differently. She would have encouraged the adoption, not fought it.

"Edward isn't coming back," she finally said. "He's gone for good."

"What do you mean? What happened to him? Is he dead?"

She wrinkled her nose – she didn't want to panic or upset him, but the truth was what it was. "Sort of. Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, my name is Emma Swan."

He paused, examined her, and asked, "You're his wife?"

"No. Here's the thing – Edward Swan isn't coming back because, well, I used to be him. But now I'm me. The real me."

"What?"

"You've been clothes shopping, right?" She waited for him to nod before continuing. "Well, have you ever tried on a shirt, and it just wasn't right? Like it didn't fit the way you wanted it to, and it just wasn't you?"

"Yeah."

"I was born with a body that looks more like yours than mine, but it just didn't fit right. So I did what you do at the store – you get something that actually works for you." When his expression remained blank, she grimaced. Somehow he was her kid. He was probably intelligent as hell, but thick as a cement slab as well. "Kid, I was born Edward Swan. I was told I was a boy, but I knew pretty early on that I wasn't. Two years ago, I finally got the surgeries that let me look like the person I know I am. I changed my name and my body, but I'm who you're looking for."

"That's not possible." He dug into his pocket and pulled out a tattered paper. She took it from his hands, unfolded it, and examined its contents. "See, my dad is supposed to come save us all from my mom."

The picture as a pretty accurate depiction of what she would have looked like if she had given in to the pressure to be a male – the man's blonde hair was cropped short and his chest was broad and masculine, but there was no denying the similarity to herself. Though she wanted to question where he got it from, she also wasn't very interested in hearing more of his rambling. She ran a finger over the image and fought the odd feeling in her belly. She had no interest in being this man, no matter what this kid said.

"Well, that's not going to happen."

"But you have to." He grabbed her wrist as she handed the picture back. "You're my dad."

"What part of me looks like a father, kid?" Emma jerked away. "I haven't spent my entire life fighting for this – for me – to have some kid think he knows better. If you are my kid, which I'm still not convinced, then you really can't be here. Your mom is going to be pissed, and, to be honest, I'm getting pretty pissed myself."

"If you don't come with, then the curse won't break."

This part of Henry, the part that didn't seem to grasp reality, had to come from Nelly. Still, she didn't know anything about the kid, let alone where he came from, so Emma realized she'd have to be crafty to get this kid out of her hair. He was a reminder of who she had been forced to be, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings, but she also didn't want him around. That part of her life was thankfully over; she didn't keep pictures around, and she certainly wouldn't keep him.

"Kid," she started, thinking quickly, "if I drive you home and check things out, will that be good enough?"

His lips twitched to the side. "As my dad?"

"I don't think you're really getting this. I'm a woman, Henry. I've always been one, no matter what you think."

"We'll see." He smiled at her and extended his hand. "So come on! Let's go!"

"I'm not staying, and I'm not pretending to be someone I'm not."

"Sure." He dropped his hand once he was sure she wasn't going to take it. "If we leave now, we could be home in a few hours."

"Gimme a few minutes, kid."

She stared mournfully at her untouched glass of vodka and orange juice before dumping its contents down the sink. Unwilling to leave her cupcake behind, she freed it from its container, jammed her only candle on top, and lit the flame. Ignoring Henry's questions, she closed her eyes and made a wish: I know I was wishing pretty hard to have someone to share my birthday with earlier – I'd like to retract that wish with this formal wish and instead – I wish for someone who accepts me as I am.

She blew the candle out, swabbed her finger through the frosting, and then turned to go change her clothes. She could hear him moving around the apartment, but she focused her attention on staying calm and in control. Seeing him was reawaken a number of unpleasant memories of her own childhood; on top of that, her stomach was roiling and clenching in turn as he continuously, obstinately refused to see her as Emma rather than the father he assumed her to be.

For now, she told herself, she just needed to get him back to wherever he was from. The emotional impact would be dealt with later.

0-0-0

"Okay. So before we go in, you have to promise me something."

She sighed and turned to her passenger. Upon exiting her bedroom, she'd found him finishing off her cupcake, holding one of her meager possessions, and chattering on about his home town. That natter hadn't stopped through the duration of the car ride, and he seemed content to continue talking even as they sat at the curb in front of his home. The kid had nice digs, she noted – a big yard, a manor of a house, and presumably a nice life.

"I drove you this far. You agreed that if I took you home and checked things out, you'd drop it. I'm going to walk you in. I'll make sure everything's okay, and then you will never contact me again. Okay?"

His smile didn't waver. "You'll change your mind once you meet her."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I'm one hundred percent sure I won't."

"Promise me that you'll really make sure, okay?" He set a hand on her forearm. "Because I know how adults work. You'll say something like that, and then you'll go in, barely look, and then go home. You think because I'm a kid I don't understand how things work, but that's not true. You owe me a real effort."

"I don't owe you anything-"

"You're part of the reason I'm stuck with her."

"I didn't even know you existed-"

"So here's your chance to know me." His grasp on her tightened. "Please."

Emma opened the car door, pulled free from his grip, and started up the walk to his house. He hurried after her, trying to coach her on what to say and what to think, but she ignored him in favor of rapping on the broad, white door. It immediately swung open and revealed a brunette who rushed past her and dragged Henry into a hug.

"Where have you been?"

"I went and found my dad."

Henry struggled free from her grip, and Emma didn't miss the look of pain that filled the brunette's expression. The woman turned and finally seemed to see her. She lifted a hand in greeting and smiled weakly.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Emma Swan." Emma rubbed the back of her neck and tried to divert attention away from how weak the other woman made her knees. "You must be Henry's mom?"

"I am."

Henry marched to Emma's side and linked their hands – Emma instinctively disentangled herself and stepped away. Undeterred, Henry stuck his chin out and announced, "I've found my real family. Emma's going to prove that my dad didn't know about the adoption and take me away."

Emma sputtered. "That wasn't the deal, kid."

The brunette approached more quickly than Emma expected. She found the woman's anger physically oppressive, but she didn't back down. She had faced a number of hostile forces in her life, and she had yet to yield to them. This woman would likely be exactly like the rest; Emma would fight her if necessary, but all she wanted was to leave Henry and go home.

"I don't know who you think you are-"

"I'm nobody," Emma interjected. "Just some idiot who made a mistake a decade ago. He showed up at my apartment and demanded I come here with him. I thought it was the only way to get him home. I didn't know if he'd run off again if I just took him to a Greyhound station. The thing is, I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. So I'm dropping him off, and I'll be on my way."

"Are you his birth mother?"

"I…" Emma cleared her throat. "I can explain everything, if you want. But not out here."

"Go to your room, Henry. We'll talk about this later." The brunette pointed to the house and waited until Henry was scurrying past her before direction her attention back to Emma. "Would you care for some apple cider?"

Well, Emma thought, she was already here. She might as well see where this adventure took her. "Got anything stronger?"


	2. Part Two: Emma and Mary Margaret

After the shock wave of brilliant golden light erupted outward from the kiss Regina pressed to Henry's temple, Emma sat alone in the hospital waiting room, her gaze fixated on the tattered scrap of paper upon which the male version of herself boldly rescued the town from an evil curse. Despite several months of battling Regina over Henry and Henry battling her over her identity, she wasn't the one who had done anything to help anyone. The curse was real, but she was no savior.

The savior was supposed to be a brilliant, handsome man with a dashing smile, cleft chin, and muscular physique. He was supposed to ride into town, fulfill his destiny, and win the girl. The town would love him, and his long-lost parents would pull him into a hug and tell him how proud they were of him. All of these lovely things, Emma thought, and none of them were for her.

She had done her best to be a part of Henry's life, much to Regina's horror. She had walked him to and from school, participated in his shenanigans, and saved him from a life-endangering situations. She hadn't meant to like him so much, especially given his attitude about her, but he was endearing and just so much her kid.

Maybe now he'd understand that she wasn't who he expected her to be. He could drop the idea of her being his magnificent father and want her around as his mother. That thought brought an uncertain smile to her face. The thought of having a kid was no longer as frightening as it was the moment she'd found him at her door. She no longer looked at him and remembered the social pressure to be male – he was just a surprise benefit of once having the ability to produce children. She'd thought about having kids a few times, she mused, but she had never expected any of those kids to actually be genetically linked to her. Henry was a bit of a miracle that way.

Part of her wished she could have been a hero like he wanted. He was no doubt supremely disappointed that she hadn't ended the curse while his Evil Queen mother had. Emma hadn't stuck around to find out – as soon as he had awoken from his sleeping-curse-slumber, she had bolted. Disappointment was hard for her to deal with.

When she was five, she'd asked her foster parents for a Dolly Surprise. She'd never forget the way they looked at her as if she were some sort of alien species. Her foster father in particular had glared at her in a way that clearly communicated both disdain and mistrust. On Christmas morning, she'd woken up to a single present: a used GI Joe that one of her foster brothers had left behind when he got sent to another home. She'd gotten so many looks from various people over the years that she was keenly, painfully aware that she was not what the world wanted. She just couldn't take that look again from Henry.

In the distance, she spotted Mary Margaret and David sprinting down the hall. Neither of them spotted her in their hurry; Emma sighed with relief and moved to a darker corner. She had nowhere to go, really. Her home with Mary Margaret was about to become truly awkward, and she was nearly certain that even leaving the hospital would draw unwanted attention to her. For now, she was content hiding out alone with her thoughts.

She wondered what Henry and Regina were telling them. Mary Margaret would be fairly on-board, she figured, as Mary Margaret had been a believer by the end. David, though, had been through a fair amount of trauma – from waking up from a coma to having his fake wife fake murdered – and she wasn't as sure that he'd be as amenable to the sudden change as his wife. Maybe they'd be really pliant, she thought. Maybe they'd deal well with change, and when they found out they had a daughter and not a son, there would be no issue.

She had parents now – real, honest-to-goodness parents. That didn't make them any better, though. They, like nearly all of her foster parents, had sent her away. Some fosters claimed that another home would be better for her, while others simply threw their hands up and denied having the ability to deal with such a different kid. Whatever the reason, no parent had ever wanted to keep her. These were the same.

Rubbing at her eyes, she leaned forward and balanced her elbows on her knees. Though Henry would see the curse break as a victory, she could only see recent events as leading up to the largest let-down of her life. During the rougher moments of her childhood, she'd created this entirely fictional image of who her parents were. She had a million reasons why they couldn't have kept her, ranging from death to being secret agents, but the one thing that kept her going was the thought that they'd want her back someday. They'd meet her and realize that no matter what the hardship, giving her up was a mistake.

Now, though, with her parents very nearby, she knew that this wasn't going to play out the way she had always fantasized. Fear made her stomach toss and turn, empty as it was, and she grabbed a magazine from the nearby coffee table to keep her mind occupied. The details about the life of an aging celebrity did nothing to soothe her worries, but at the very least she was no longer chasing the same thoughts in circles.

Perhaps everything would have been better if she never brought Henry home. She ought to have called the cops or something and had him transported home. Then she wouldn't have seen Regina – she cleared her throat and banished thoughts of the attractive woman from her mind. There were myriad reasons she could never be with Regina, even if she was attracted to the snappy, sharp-tongued woman. Besides, once things were settled here, she wanted to leave as soon as possible, which was hardly the right way to start any romantic entanglement.

Not that she wanted one.

She squeezed her eyes closed and tightened her grip on the magazine. When she opened her eyes anew, she spotted Mary Margaret practically sprinting back down the hall. The smaller woman spotted her but continued running a few steps before skidding to a halt and looking more closely at her. Emma sat perfectly still, hoping that Mary Margaret had selective, motion-based eyesight. She sank down as Mary Margaret bounded toward her.

"You – you're-"

Emma smiled as best she could and stood up. "And you – you're…"

"I can't believe it." Mary Margaret grabbed her wrists. "I almost don't believe it. Henry said – but… You're Emma, and that's just…"

"Not what you were expecting."

Mary Margaret nodded, her smile wobbling with uncertainty. "I only got to hold you for a moment when you were born before your father took you from my arms and sent you on your way. Did… did Henry tell you about that?"

"He showed me the book."

"You were such a perfect little baby." Mary Margaret lifted a hand and cupped her cheek. "I want to apologize for what we did. But we knew the prophecy. We knew you'd come back to us."

"Yeah… I almost didn't, if we're being honest." Emma laughed nervously. This was going much better than she expected, but Mary Margaret hadn't acknowledged her transition, or even called her by name. "Good thing Henry's a persuasive kid, huh?"

"Yes, of course." Mary Margaret let her hand drop away in favor of gesturing for Emma to sit. She sat in the chair directly across and beamed at Emma. "You probably have so many questions. I have a few myself."

"You can go first."

"Mine will take a while," Mary Margaret said with a small flip of her hand. "I just want to know every detail of your life."

Emma hesitated. There was a lot to say, she thought, and she didn't think Mary Margaret would like most of it. "Are you sure? Because-"

"I know that it's going to be hard. But that's why I need to hear it – every detail, so don't spare anything. I know in my heart that sending you away was right because you were able to save the entire town, but-"

"Actually Regina did that."

"What?"

"Yeah, Regina kissed Henry and broke the curse. Not me." Emma wished that she could have been Henry's hero, if only to feel like less of a failure.

"But Henry said-"

"I don't know why he lied, but that's what happened." Emma shrugged. "So I didn't do anything."

"Well, without you Storybrooke wouldn't have changed. We were stuck in time, and you got the clocks moving again. You saved us, whether you want to admit it or not."

"Technically the kid probably would have somehow forced things to happen. He was, after all, aging while the rest of you weren't." A lump began to grow in her throat. She was unnecessary, and soon Mary Margaret would understand that. Every family she'd had to date understood after a while, and Mary Margaret would be no different. "So really, you sent me away for nothing."

"You gave birth to Henry?" Even speaking, Mary Margaret seemed to know that her words held no weight. She offered them anyway and smiled at Emma, who stared blankly back. There were too many ways to pretend like she was important but no actual proof.

"If Regina didn't adopt Henry, she would have adopted some other kid, who'd also age faster than the people around him."

Mary Margaret searched her eyes for a long moment. Her lips quivered and pulled down into a pout. Emma found the expression mildly irritating because she recognized how it yanked the attention from the wrong Emma had suffered to Mary Margaret's pain. "You think we made a mistake."

Though Emma wanted to point out that this wasn't about a mistake – it was about years of being unwanted and shunted from home to home, Emma chose to move forward and save that discussion for another time. "I think that I'm not as important to this town as you think I am. I'm no savior. I'm just Emma."

"Well, now that the curse is broken, aren't you Edward?" Mary Margaret looked at her with such hope that Emma almost felt bad shaking her head.

"You shoved me in a dresser before the curse it, so I wasn't affected, Mary Margaret. There's no magic. I'm just me – I'm just Emma," she repeated.

"This world has made all of us someone we're not," Mary Margaret persisted. "But we can all go back to who we were in the Enchanted Forest. We have magic – we can fix-"

"There's nothing to fix." Emma glowered at her. "And if you think there is, then we're going to have a problem. I've put up with months of Henry's shit about this, so I'm not going to sit here and put up with yours."

Mary Margaret sat back. "Oh."

"Look, it's been a long life, okay? Sorry if I'm a bit blunt, but either you accept me as Emma, or I'm out of here."

"I feel like I'm still waiting for my son to show up." Mary Margaret tried to smile but failed. "You're Emma, and I understand that, but you don't feel like the little boy I lost years ago. You're my friend, not my child. Does that make sense?"

This wasn't exactly the pain for which Emma had been bracing; this was fresh and unexpected and raced through her quickly. Her heart thudded against her ribs, and her head felt very light. This wasn't rejection, she recognized, but rather a complete denial. The worst case was supposed to be Mary Margaret being a disappointed mother, not an oblivious friend.

"Oh, totally," Emma replied. She was proud that her hurt feelings didn't come through in her voice.

"That's a relief." Mary Margaret's expression returned to a light-hearted beam. "Henry's been asking about you."

And just like that, the moment was over. Emma thought there'd be more, but Mary Margaret seemed intent on moving on. Emma wouldn't be surprised if she held some sort of funeral for the baby boy she lost the evening the curse had been cast.

"I'll go up and see him in a bit. For now, I'm just trying to get my thoughts in order, y'know? I didn't really believe in the curse – I still kinda don't, even though I've seen it break with my own two eyes." Emma rubbed the back of her neck. She'd spent too long in what she considered the real world to simply accept magic simply because she'd seen a blast of golden light. As a teenager on the run, she'd gotten to see and meet a number of talented street performers. The only reason she knew this was the real deal was the feeling it had caused in her chest – no laser show or sleight of hand had ever made her ribcage reverberate.

"He wishes you'd come see him."

Emma leaned over to organize the magazines to give herself a moment. Well, she thought, her birthday wish had come true in some sense or another – Mary Margaret was accepting her as Emma. Wishing was tricky business though, she concluded, because this wasn't exactly what she was hoping for. She pressed her lips together and wished once more:_ I wish for someone who accepts who I was, who I am, and who I will be._

"I guess I could do that for him." Emma stood and allowed Mary Margaret to hug her briefly. "Is Regina up there still?"

"Yes." Mary Margaret's tone took on a darker edge. "I asked her to leave, but she refused."

"Henry's her kid."

"She took my child from me, so I don't see why I can't ask her to step outside while I see hers for a few minutes."

Emma grimaced and followed Mary Margaret up to the pediatric wing on the second floor. Nurses milled about, most of whom were confused about their duties. Some had left the moment the curse broke to find their families and reunite with lost loves, but the rest had realized that there were sick patients to which they ought to attend. Emma was grateful that some people had their priorities in order.

She entered Henry's room and approached slowly. He looked happy to see her, so she took his hand and squeezed gently. No matter how ignorant he acted, he was still her kid. They ought to have years ahead of them to sort through the ins and outs of their relationship. She hoped she might get to come visit him a few times a month after she returned to Boston. "Hey, kid."

"Emma, you came back."

"Just went to get some fresh air."

He pulled her close and gave her a weak hug. "I'm glad you came back. Thank you for saving me."

"Kid, your mom did that."

As he proceeded to deliver a very similar argument to Mary Margaret's, Emma turned to look at the brooding brunette who lingered nearby with her arms folded over her chest. Regina looked flustered, which was an unusual look for her – she was normally so calm and in control, but Emma supposed that having a child near death was enough to make anyone look a bit frazzled. Talking over Henry, Emma said, "Thanks, Regina. I know how big that was, y'know?"

Regina almost smiled, she could have sworn it; very quickly, though, Regina's lips tightened and thinned. "There are some things in life worth fighting and dying for, Ms. Swan."

"You're not going to die."

"There are a lot of people in this town who would like to prove you wrong."

"I won't let them." Emma strode to her side and gripped her shoulder. She stared Regina down and spoke with calm certainty, "Trust me. I don't really have any sort of say around here, I know, but worst case I'll take you to Boston with me."

"Me, too?" Henry sat up a bit more in his hospital bed. Even with all the tubes, he looked perky and ready to take on the world. She supposed a little thing like a magic curse wouldn't be enough to slow him down for long. She admired his persistence, even if that trait was annoying in certain contexts. "You'll take me with, right?"

"I wouldn't separate you from your mom."

He frowned. "I want to stay with you."

"Kid…"

"She poisoned me-"

"And then risked her life to save you." Emma shook her head. "Seriously, kid, I think you have some serious stuff to talk about with one another, but she's still your mom, and you're still her kid. Deal with it."

"I hope Snow gave you a similar speech," Regina stated after a moment of stunned silence.

Snow flushed red. "Something like that."

"It's fine." Emma folded her arms over her chest.

Regina examined Snow's shameful expression and Emma's vaguely perturbed one. "You mean to imply that after all these years, there was no tearful reunion?"

"She lost her son," Emma stated as delicately as she could, "and gained a friend."

Regina's lip curled back over her teeth. "I see…"

"This really isn't any of your concern, Regina."

"No, I suppose not." Regina rolled her eyes.

Emma lifted her hands. "This definitely isn't the time or place to have this discussion, so can we just chill for now and be glad that nobody's dead or stuck in a sleeping curse?"

Mary Margaret nodded stiffly and turned to Henry. As Mary Margaret brushed hair from his forehead, Emma felt a hand slid against the small of her back. She glanced at Regina, who stared stolidly forward. A comfortable heat flooded her stomach as she leaned into the touch and returned her attention to Henry.


End file.
